The Mother Goose Mess
by TempestJo
Summary: B&B take on nursery lane.. Finally posted to ff!
1. Chapter 1

**Peter, Peter, Pumpin-eater, had a wife and couldn't keep her, put her in a pumpkin shell, and there he kept her very well...**

"You're kidding me, right?" Booth looked hopeful.

"No." Cullen shook his head. "Peter Piper was found dead in a peck of pickled peppers."

Booth sighed and closed his eyes in agony. "Sir.."

"I know. But it's true." Cullen passed over the file. "Peter was 38 years old, single.."

"Suspects?"

"He had a fight with his girlfriend, Miss Mary Contrary, in her garden. Neighbors reported it. You can start there. I think she's married now."

"And you're positive on the ID?"

"He was perfectly preserved."

Booth groaned again. It was cases like this, where he just knew Bones was going to be trouble….

It was looking like a nursery rhyme mess...

~B~

"Bones, Let's go." He strode into Angela's office, interrupting their morning coffee break.

Brennan smiled. "Remains?"

"Already identified, but I need your help anyways."

"So, no face for me?" Angela raised her eyebrows.

"Not yet. Peter Piper was perfectly preserved." Booth cracked a smile. Knowing Angela would get it.

She did.

"In a peck of pickled peppers?" She smirked.

"Actually… Yes." Brennan looked up the file she'd taken from Booth. "How did you know?"

Angela's jaw dropped open. "Seriously?"

"Yup." Booth shifted. "We have to go interview his girlfriend."

"Oh." Angela smiled. "Little Bo Peep?"

"Miss Mary Contrary." Brennan supplied, shutting the file.

Angela raised her eyebrows.

"She's married now." Booth sighed. "To Georgie Porgie."

There was a snort, and Angela dissolved in giggles, sliding down in her chair, her shoulders shaking.

"Are you ok Ange?" Brennan asked in alarm.

"Fine Sweetie." Ange waved them away, still giggling.

"Come on Bones, it's an hour's drive to Nursery Lane." Booth guided her out, grinning at the sound of the now hysterically laughing artist.

"What's wrong with Ange?" She asked him as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"I'll explain it in the car."

~B~

"So let me get this straight." Brennan held up her hand a ticked off points on her fingers. "Peter Piper was found deceased in a peck of pickled peppers. There is a nursery rhyme in which a Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. Mary Contrary is also a nursery rhyme character?"

"Yes." Booth nodded, she seemed to be getting it now, it had only take half an hour.

"What about Georgie Porgie?"

"Georgie Porgie, Pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry, and when the boys came out to play, Georgie Porgie ran away." Booth half sang.

Brennan frowned. "Why?"

A line creased Booth's forehead. "Why what?"

"Why did he run away? And why wasn't he in school? And why.."

"It's a nursery rhyme Bones!" Booth interrupted.

"So it doesn't have to make sense?"

"No."

"But.."

"It was written over a hundred years ago!" He explained.

"But Mary Contrary is married to Georgie Porgie, and they might have killed Peter Piper."

Booth couldn't resist. "I've got my money on Jack Horner, he always seemed to be a twit to me."

Brennan stared at him blankly.

He sighed again. "You know, it's times like this I wish Angela was with us."

"Why?"

"She'd think that was funny."

Brennan picked up her phone, put it on speaker, and dialled Angela.

"Hey Ange, Booth says he think maybe Jack Horner did it."

There was another snort.. More giggles.. "But he's always in the corner!" She gasped for air, "What about Peter Pumkin-eater?" There was more hysterical laughter... "If you meet him, tell him to call me, I'm available!"

The line disconnected as Angela dropped the phone and laughed till tears ran down her face.

In the car, Booth was trying to swallow his laughter, but it was burbling out in snorts and glurks, while Brennan stared at him.

"Who is Peter Pumpkin-eater?" She finally asked.


	2. Chapter 2

CH

**little tommy tittlemouse**

**lived in a little house**

**and caught fishes**

**in other men's ditches**

"Nursery Lane.." Booth pulled over and parked, staring at the street curiously.

"It looks like any other street." Brennan announced.

"Wait." Booth put his hand on her arm to stop her from climbing out of the car. "Does that house look kind of like a shoe to you?" He pointed down the street about halfway.

Brennan squinted. "The one with all the children?"

"Yeah."

She made a face. "Sort of, I guess."

Booth smiled. "And that one over there..It's orange."

Brennan nodded. "Yes, with a green roof, how distinctive. Angela would like it."

Booth snorted with laughter, thinking Angela would like it very much. Especially if Peter Pumkin-eater lived there.

Brennan looked at him. "Can we get out now? This is it, right?" She pointed to the house they were parked in front of, a pretty cottage with a garden for a front yard.

"I see Cockleshells, and Silver Bells, and Pretty maids in row, this has GOT to be it." He chortled.

Brennan frowned. "Pretty Maids?"

"Meadow Saxifrage Bones.. It's a type of flower."

"Oh. So we can get out?"

Booth composed himself. "Yes."

They got out and locked the SUV then walked up the path to the house.

The door opened as soon as they knocked.

"Mary Contrary?" Booth asked politely, staring at the woman who stood pouting in front of them.

"You're here about Peter, aren't you?"

"Peter Piper." Brennan clarified.

"I don't know what to tell you. We had a fight, he left. I haven't seen him since." She shook her head.

"Is your husband around?" Booth asked.

"Georgie? We're separated. I thought he could stop, but I caught him kissing that Muffet woman, and then heard about Lucy Locket and Kitty Fisher." She frowned deeply. "Looking for the locket my butt!"

Booth smiled charmingly. "Could you tell me what you and Peter argued about? And where we might find your separated husband?"

The frown dissolved under the power of Booth's smile, and she smiled back, a dimple appearing in her cheek.

Brennan felt immediate dislike for her.

"We argued about Willie Winky. He runs down the street every night at eight, and then stops in for a glass of milk after. Peter didn't like it, because he runs in his nightgown, and he felt that was inappropriate."

"Wee Willie Winky?" Booth smiled some more.

"Yes." Mary giggled. "Only he's really not, you know. He's actually quite impressive."

Booth coughed. "And your husband?"

"Oh he's average."

Brennan smiled. "But where can we find him?"

"He's been staying at Tommy Tittlemouse's."

"Right." Booth stepped away from the door. "And that is?"

"At the end of the lane, a little house, next to Doctor Fells ditch. They're probably fishing in it."


	3. Chapter 3

**_Little Bobby Snooks was fond of his books,_**

**_And loved by his usher and master;_**

**_But naughty Jack Spry, he got a black eye,_**

**_And carries his nose in a plaster._**

"What are you thinking about Bones?" Booth asked as they strolled down the street, choosing to walk instead of drive, in the hopes of taking in the neighbourhood and talking to some locals.

"I was wondering if there is any chance we will be here around eight." She replied.

"Why?"

"I think we should talk to Willie Winky."

"You want to see him run in his nightgown." Booth clarified jokingly.

She nodded seriously. "Maybe we should bring Angela in as well. She would enjoy that."

"Actually." Booth mused, suddenly serious. "That might be a good idea. Tell her to bring Hodgins as well."

Brennan quickly phoned, and was just putting her phone back in her purse when a child ran up to them.

"Are you here about Peter Piper?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yes." Booth replied. "What's your name?"

"I'm Bobby. Bobby Snooks."

"Do you read lots of books, Bobby?" Booth asked casually.

The boy smiled. "Yes, I love to read. I've read all your books." He said to Brennan, who looked down at him stunned.

"You must be a very good reader." She finally announced. "They're not meant for children."

The boy shrugged. "That's what Jack said."

"Who is Jack?" Brennan asked.

"Jack Spry, he's my best friend, he's very naughty. That's him over there, with the broken nose." He pointed to a kid hanging a fake spider in a tree. "We saw him last you know."

"Really? Peter Piper, you mean?" Booth smiled.

"Yup. He went off with the fat man of Bombay." Bobby said seriously. "About nine o'clock, after his argument with Miss Contrary."

"Why weren't you in bed?"

"Just cause Wee Willie says so, doesn't mean I have to go bed. He's not my parent." The boy sniffed in indignation.

"Who _are_ your parents?" Brennan asked curiously.

"Tommy Snooks and Bessy Brooks of course." Bobby answered. "We live over there, next to Jack Jingle."

**As Tommy Snooks and Bessy Brooks**

**Were walking out one Sunday,**

**Says Tommy Snooks to Bessy Brooks,**

**"Wilt marry me on Monday?"**

~MG~

**Jack Spratt could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean..**

**And so between them both you see, they licked the platter clean.**

Brennan watched Bobby run away as a tiny woman walked under the tree with Jack's spider in it.

There was a shriek, and then a string of curse words that made Booth blush.

"Who is THAT?" Brennan asked, as Booth grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down the road.

"My guess, is Miss Muffet." Booth shook his head.

Brennan looked impressed. "She can really curse!"

"Having spiders dropped on you your entire life will do that, I suppose." Booth checked his watch. "I wonder if Georgie knows anything about the fat man of Bombay, and his pipe."

"His pipe?"

"The fat man of Bombay smokes a pipe."

"How do you know?"

Booth rolled his eyes. "You're really something else Bones."

"Thank you." She smiled.

They trudged along until they came to a fat man leaning on his gate.

"Sir, Could you tell me which house belongs to Tommy Tittlemouse?" Booth asked.

"Sure, but he ain't home." The man chuckled. "He'll be out poaching fish. Better off to wait till supper, then he'll come home to fry them up."

Booth sighed. "And you are?"

"Jack Horner."

Brennan reached out and pinched Booth.

He winced. "Do you know anything about the death of Peter Piper, sir?"

"Nope." Jack huffed. "I was away that week, a plum pudding contest in Wisconsin." He leered at Brennan. "I was the judge."

"Apparently." Brennan said, looking at his girth.

The man chortled. "Why don't you go talk to Jack Jingle? Over there? His wife's brother was visiting, he sells Gin. He drops in once a month or so. He was chummy with Piper."

"Gin?" Booth grinned. "Bombay Sapphire?"

Jack Horner nodded and winked.

"Well, that's good to know." Booth said to Brennan as they strolled away towards the Jingle residence.

"So what's the story about Jack Jingle?" Brennan mused. "I assume by the look on your face that he has a rhyme as well?"

"Little Jack Jingle,

He used to live single;

But When he got tired of this kind of life,

He left off being single and lived with his wife.

Now what do you think of little Jack Jingle?

Before he was married he used to live single." Booth whispered quickly.

Brennan nodded. "Very logical of him."

Booth stared at her. "So what? When you get tired of being alone, you'll get married?"

Brennan shrugged. "You don't have to get married to live with someone. I've done that before."

His jaw dropped. "What?"

"Pete." Brennan remembered. "Nothing we ever did was messy. Very, very dull. And he knew nothing about me." She reached out and rang the doorbell of the house they were now standing in front of.

The door opened, and a thin man stood in front of them.

"Jack Jingle?" Booth questioned.

The man shook his head. "Jack Spratt. Jingle lives in back. One of those hidden duplexes." He sighed. A very large woman with blonde hair and rosy cheeks came into view behind him. "Who is it?"

"Someone for Jingle." He called back., before his eyes widened. "Is this about Peter Piper?"

"Did you know him?" Brennan asked.

"Just to talk to. Bought some pickled peppers from him. Nice guy."

"Right, well.." Booth stepped back. "Thanks."

The door closed.

They walked around the side of the house and came face to face with a pretty woman with her hair in ringlets.

"Hi. I'm Bo Peep. Are you looking for me?" She smiled.

"Are you married to Jack Jingle, and the sister of the Gin salesman?" Brennan responded, irritated that these women were so pretty.

"I am."

"Has Georgie ever kissed you?"

"Not for years. He's such a player. A real fear of commitment that one." Bo Peep said sweetly.

"Where is Jack?" Booth interrupted.

"Feeding the sheep. I'll get him to call you. We have them in a paddock at a farm a few miles away." She took the card Booth held out, and walked away.

"This just gets weirder and weirder." Booth muttered.

"One of these people pickled Peter Piper." Brennan reminded him.

"If I were him, I might want to pickle myself too."

"On Gin?"

Booth's eyes widened. "We should get Cam to run a tox screen!"

**There was a fat man of Bombay,**

**Who was smoking one sunshiny day;**

**When a bird called a snipe**

**Flew away with his pipe,**

**Which vexed the fat man of Bombay**


	4. Chapter 4

**Pease Porridge Hot**

**Pease Porridge Cold**

**Pease Porridge in the Pot, Nine days old.**

**Some like it hot,**

**Some like it cold,**

**Some like it in the pot,**

**Nine days old.**

"What did we miss?" A breathless voice behind them asked.

"Ange? How did you get here so fast?" Brennan turned to face her.

"Hodgins brought his Lamborghini to work today." Angela smiled happily. "I tell ya, my engine is purring."

Booth chuckled as Hodgins strolled up to them. "The Lambo huh?"

Hodgins shrugged. "Toys."

"Yeah. Toys." Booth nodded.

"So? What did we miss? Who killed Peter Piper? And, did you meet Peter Pumpkin-eater yet? Please tell me he's real!"

"Well, there is a house that is strongly reminiscent of a pumpkin." Brennan noted.

"And we've already met Bo Peep, Jack Jingle, The Spratt's, Jack Horner, Bobby, and another Jack." Booth sighed. "They're crawling out of the woodwork."

Brennan looked confused. "Most of these houses are brick, Booth."

"Bo Peep? Is she hot? I always thought she'd be hot." Hodgins interjected.

"She's married to Jingle and is the sister of the fat man of Bombay." Booth drawled.

Angela rubbed her hands together in excitement. "I'm going Peter Pumpkin-eater hunting." She grinned happily. "Are you coming Bren?"

Booth and Hodgins watched them walk down the street.

"What should I do?" Hodgins said finally, looking around. "Do we know what particulates we need? I saw some interesting specimens at that garden up the road."

"That's Mary Contrary's house. You can go there later. You might want to talk to Miss Muffet. Jack Spry dropped a spider on her earlier."

Hodgins nodded. "What kind of spider?"

Booth shrugged. "Oh, and keep an eye out for Georgie Porgie. Apparently he's been seen kissing her."

"Dude, that guy always runs away when another guy shows up. If anyone finds him, it'll be Angela."

~B~

"Hey diddle diddle, the cat played the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon! The little dog laughed, to see such sport, and the dish ran away with the spoon!" Angela sang under her breath as they walked up the sidewalk.

"Cat's cannot play fiddles." Brennan announced. "They havn't the dexterity needed, or the opposable thumb required."

"Yeah, and cows can't jump over the moon either." Angela rebutted. "So what?"

"I heard a dog laugh once."

"Really?"

"Yes, it was very eerie." Brennan shivered, remembering the little grey dog.

Angela nodded. "I bet. So, you met Bo Peep? Did she have her sheep?"

Brennan looked puzzled. "She said they kept them at a farm a few miles away, that's why we couldn't talk to Jingle, he was over there feeding them."

Angela giggled. "Was she pretty?"

"Yes. So is Mary Contrary. She's got a dimple in her cheek." Brennan replied sourly.

"Ohhhh.." Angela looked at her knowingly. "And she flashed it on Booth, didn't she?"

Brennan sighed and nodded. "Although." She said thoughtfully, "He seemed much more interested in Jack Spratt's wife."

Angela raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes. She was very beautiful, all pink cheeks and blonde hair. He does seem to like blondes. And she was holding a pie of some sort." Brennan lifted a strand of her own hair and studied it. "Think I should dye my hair blonde?"

Angela rolled her eyes. "I think you should bake Booth a pie."

Brennan looked surprised. "Bake him a pie." She mused. "I wonder…"

Angela gasped and grabbed Brennan's hand.. "LOOK!"

"It's the pumpkin house."

"And please god let THAT be Peter Pumkin-eater, cause he is SO hot!" Angela gushed, pushing Brennan up the walk to the porch where a golden haired man was lounging.

He smiled at them cheerfully. "Afternoon ladies!"

"Hi, I'm Angela Montenegro, I'm currently single.." Angela began, "We're investigating the death of Peter Piper, could we talk to you?"

Brennan pinched her. "What about Wendell?"

"Shhh." Angela hissed before smiling winningly at the now standing bronzed god.

"I'm Georgie Porgie. Let me just get Peter for you. Then our numbers will be even." He winked.

He walked into the house and shouted for his friend.

Brennan watched him curiously. "He's married to Mary Contrary, but Bo Peep said he had commitment issues." She whispered.

Angela sighed. "I believe it. He's got dog written all over him. But what a body!"

The door opened again and two men came out, Georgie and a thin, tall, sour looking man they supposed must be Peter.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Brennan of the Jeffersonian, working with the FBI, and this is my associate Angela Montenegro, we're looking into Peter Piper's… Pickling incident. Can we ask you some questions?"

The man sighed. "Sure, I'm Peter Pumpkin-eater. I didn't know Piper very well. Used to fool around with my wife, but I fixed that."

Brennan's eyes lit up.

"Not that way." He rolled his eyes. "I figured out how to keep her happy, and then she didn't need him anymore."

"No offence," Brennan said matter of factly, "But aren't you worried about Georgie here?"

Georgie smirked. "His wife is my sister. That's gross."

Angela nodded. "Good to know. Kissed anybody else lately?" She winked, so he wouldn't get mad at the question.

Georgie shrugged. "A few girls, nobody special."

"When was the last time you saw Peter Piper?" Brennan asked them both.

"OH, months ago. He liked to go drinking with the fat man of Bombay, especially after his fights with Miss Contrary." Peter replied. "Last time I saw him, he was stumbling into his house, about midnight. I feed my pumpkins at midnight."

Georgie sighed. "Mary would drive anyone to drink, she's so contrary about everything, except Wee Willie. Last time I saw Piper he was in the bar with the Gin man. Must have been before you saw him." He said to Peter.

Angela nudged Brennan. "Wee Willie?"

"He runs down the street every night at eight in his nightgown, and apparently he's not 'Wee' at all, Mary says he's actually quite impressive."

Angela's eyes widened and she checked her watch. "I wonder…"

Brennan nodded. "Me too."

The men stared at them both. "Are we done yet?"

Brennan nodded. "For now. Thank you for your time."

Booth looked up from his conversation with a small child, hearing his partners voice coming towards him.

"Bones, Ange. Any luck with Peter Pumpkin-eater?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"He's married, and I can see why he had trouble keeping his wife too, sour about everything except his pumpkins." Angela replied. "Georgie was HOT though."

"Oh, you found him too?" Booth looked at Brennan curiously.

She flushed. "Yes."

"And?" He probed.

Angela grinned. "She punched him in the nose."

The child laughed with delight. "Georgie got punched by a GIRL!"

Angela shook her finger at him. "Girls can punch too."

"Yeah, but they usually don't punch Georgie!" The boy giggled.

"Who are you?" Brennan asked.

"I'm Boy Blue. My parents weren't very original. I've got a sister named Girl." The boy shrugged. "I've got to go now. Super Friends is on." He waved, then took off down the street.

Angela stared after him, then burst into laughter. "Little Boy Blue… Come blow your horn.."

"He didn't have a horn?" Brennan looked at her friend blankly.

Booth sighed. "So, I'm assuming Georgie kissed you?" He fingered his gun gently.

"No." Angela grinned. "He kissed me. And THEN he tried to kiss her… And his lips met her fist instead."

Brennan inspected her knuckles. "I don't like seconds, or golden haired men. Did you learn anything from Boy Blue?"

"Piper returned home about midnight, alone." Booth replied, thankfull his own hair was dark.

"Yes, that's what Peter Pumpkin-eater said too."

Booth rubbed his hands together. "Now we're getting somewhere. Let's go find Hodgins, and then give ourselves a tour of Piper's house."

"Where is Hodgie?" Angela looked around.

"Discussing spiders with Miss Muffet."

~B~

"But they're creepy!"

"The only ones you should be afraid of are the ones with bright colours on them." Hodgins voice carried over the yard. "Except for Tarantula's, which are brown, and Black widow's, which are black. And maybe.."

"Hodgie, I don't think you're helping." Angela remarked as she climbed the stairs to Miss Muffet's porch, where the dark haired girl lounged on a glider across from the entomologist, who was clearly loving the discussion more than his host.

"Hey Ange!"

"We're need you over at Piper's place." She said sweetly, before turning to Miss Muffet. "Hodgie just loves spiders. He's got a collection of them at home, and a pet tarantula he sometimes carries around on his collar, named Sugar, and it can really jump!"

Miss Muffet jumped up and darted to her door. "I think I've got something in the oven. Good Bye!"

Hodgins shook his head. "That wasn't nice Ange."

She looked innocent. "Why? I thought she should know, I thought she might like to see it one day, to help her get over her arachnophobia."

Hodgins nodded and rolled his eyes. "Sure Ange. So which house is Peter Piper's?"

Angela pointed to a house next to Peter Pumpkin-eater's, a green house, with a silver car parked in the driveway.

"It looks maintained." Hodgins commented as they walked up to where Booth and Brennan stood waiting for them.

Booth sighed. "He paid a year in advance for his gardening crew. They've kept it up. Probably ruined any chance of getting evidence from outside."

"Well, then, let's go in." Brennan announced logically, unlocking the door with the spare key she'd found under a potted plant.

"A riddle, a riddle, as I suppose, A hundred eyes and never a nose!" Hodgins murmured as they filed into the house.

"Oh, a sieve." Brennan replied, to the astonishment of Booth and Angela.

Hodgins grinned. "Good one Doctor B!"

"Well, what else could it be?" Brennan shrugged. "Look, there's a strange poster on the wall. It's a pie, with birds flying out of it, titled 'Song of Sixpence'."

"I loved that one." Booth smiled. "Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye, four and twenty blackbirds, baked in a pie. When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing.. Wasn't that a pretty dish to set before the king?" He voice rang out in a deep tone.

Angela was delighted. "Booth, you can read me bedtime stories, anytime!" She teased.

Booth winked, and continued. "The king was in his counting house, counting all his money, the Queen was in the parlour, eating bread and honey, the maid was in the garden, hanging up the clothes, when down came a black bird and pecked off her nose..."

Brennan looked horrified. "No wonder Parker wasn't afraid of a finger, if that's what you read him every night!"

He burst out laughing. "It's _meant_ for children Bones!"

Hodgins called out from the living room. "Hey, come look at this!" He held it up for them to see. "A wallet!"

"So he didn't leave the house willingly." Brennan mused.

"Or he was still drunk and forgot it." Angela replied, looking out the window. "Does anyone else see a hog with a saddle on it running down the street?"

They crowded around the window.

"Huh." Booth shook his head. Then he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, in the kitchen. He wandered in, and stood staring at the pot on the counter.

Carefully, he picked up the lid.

A putrid stench filled the room.

"Eww." Angela groaned. "What is that smell?"

"I think.." Booth stared down into the pot dubiously. "I think it used to be porridge."

"Pease Porridge?" Hodgins asked, smiling.

"Far more than nine days old." Booth grimaced, and put the lid back on.

"So was he making breakfast then?" Brennan quizzed.

"Or a midnight snack." Hodgins shrugged. "I eat oatmeal at midnight if I'm wasted drunk, it's really easy to vomit."

"Thank's for sharing." Angela said sarcastically.

"How about we split up and search the house." Booth suggested. "Hodgins and Angela on the main floor, Me and Bones upstairs."

Angela waggled her eyebrows at Brennan. "Don't forget to test out the bed Sweetie."

**High diddle doubt, my candle's out**

**My little maid is not at home;**

**Saddle my hog and bridle my dog,**

**And fetch my little maid home.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Pins**

**See a pin and pick it up,**

**All the day you'll have good luck.**

**See a pin and let it lay,**

**Bad luck you'll have all the day.**

Brennan climbed the stairs slowly, taking in the pictures that hung all the way up. "These are all pictures of Peter Piper and his Peppers."

"Prize winners." Booth mumbled, his eyes focused much lower. "According to his social networking site, he won the prize for pickled produce every year at the county fair."

Brennan looked impressed. "I would like to try some."

"Pickled Peppers?"

"Yes." She paused, thinking. "Only without pickled Peter in them. I wonder if we can find a jar somewhere."

Booth chuckled. "Pickles without Peter in them would definitely be better." He shook his head. "So far it looks like this guy led a more uneventful life than Solomon Grundy."

"Oh, what's he do?"

Booth checked his watch. "Well, it's Thursday, so.. He could be taking ill. But they never put any dates on, so that might not be this Thursday, it might be next, or next year, or in ten years.." He mused.

Brennan looked back at him and frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Solomon Grundy. You've never heard of Solomon Grundy?"

"Is he in that song?"

"What song?"

"The depressing one."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"Oh!" Booth stopped suddenly, picking up a pin off the top stair. "See a pin and pick it up, and all day long you'll have good luck!"

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Luck has nothing to do with pins Booth, and there is no such thing as luck anyways, it falls into the realm of fate, which seems ..."

"Yeah Bones. I know." Booth stood up. "But it might be a clue."

Brennan's face lit up. "Evidence!"

"Yes Bones. Evidence." Booth looked around. "Four doors. Which should we try first?"

"We could split up!"

"Fine. I'll take the rooms on the left, you take the rooms on the right."

**Solomon Grundy**

**Solomon Grundy,**

**Born on a Monday,**

**Christened on Tuesday,**

**Married on Wednesday,**

**Took ill on Thursday,**

**Worse on Friday,**

**Died on Saturday,**

**Buried on Sunday.**

**This is the end**

**Of Solomon Grundy.**

~B~

"Bones, what are you doing?" Booth stared through the door at her.

She looked up at him blankly. "Testing the bed."

"Ok, Goldilocks, and why are you doing that?"

"Angela said to… Oh. She didn't mean literally?"

"I'm pretty sure she did, but I think she meant, you and I, the horizontal mambo, not you trying to take a nap."

Brennan narrowed her eyes. "The horizontal mambo? And I'm not napping. I'm mearly testing the firmness and quality of the mattress, as well as making sure there is nothing under the covers or pillows."

"Like what?"

"Well." Brennan puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. "You, for instance, keep Hustler and Playboy in your shoes, The anthropological journal issue of our Mummy discovery in the bathroom, and Sports illustrated swimsuit edition under your pillow."

"I only did that once, to hide it from Parker!" Booth yelped. "How did you know?"

"Who do you think changed your sheets before you came home from the hospital Booth, the tooth fairy?"

"The cleaning fairy, Bones, the tooth fairy only does teeth, and no, but.. I.. You snooped!"

"Yes. You said it was for me to find out, so naturally.. And the anthropological journal you keep right out in the open, that's hardly snooping."

"Do you know why, I keep that journal?" Booth quizzed.

"It's excellent reading material. Pride in the case. And of course, you can never expose Parker to too much science." She replied matter of factly, sure of herself.

Booth rolled his eyes. "Right." It had nothing to do with the full page pictures of Bones with a ginormous smile on her face, and the one of them together, looking more couple-like than any non-couple had the right to be. "Quit testing the mattress and start searching the drawers, Bones." He smiled at her.

He turned back to the room he was searching, obviously Piper's own bedroom.

He looked over the dresser, and saw a lock of curly hair in a picture frame, next to a smiling face. "Hmm. That's not Mary Contrary." He mused, "I wonder who it is…"

He searched through drawers methodically, removing anything of interest and placing it on the bed.

Brennan finished quickly. "The room must be a spare, and the bathroom is bare."

"Good for you Bones, you're getting into the rhyming spirit." He muttered, half under the bed.

She stared at his lower body in silence, taking the moment to admire the strength of his legs, and the black and white socks peeping from under his trousers.

"Bones?"

"Yes?" She blinked back to reality. "Did you find anything in here?"

"Three blind mice in a box under the bed. I think they're stuffed. They don't smell in any case. A diary, a day planner, six blue ribbons, and a picture of a girl with curly hair, and a lock of the same curly hair."

Brennan walked over and lifted up the pillows. "And a Produce growers weekly, and a Harvest girls calendar, and a Playboy… October issue."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Booth slid out from under the bed with the box of stuffed mice. "That's the issue with all the pictures being taken at the pumpkin farm."

"I thought he liked Peppers."

Booth shrugged with a boyish smile. "Produce is produce Bones. And just because a guy likes Blondes, doesn't mean he can't be head over heels in love with a brunette."

Brennan froze. She was a brunette.

She smiled, a sense of hope lifting her spirits. "True."

"Let's get these things downstairs."


	6. Chapter 6

**Ladies and gentlemen come to supper-**

**Hot boiled beans and very good butter.**

The stairs were narrow and dark, and Angela was feeling nervous.

When she was nervous, she counted stairs.

"One, two, three, four, five,

Once I caught a fish alive.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten,

But I let it go again.

Why did you let it go?

Because it bit my finger so.

Which finger did it bite?

The little one upon the right." She whispered to herself.

"Must have been a pike." Hodgins replied.

"What?"

"A Pike. The fish. Most fish don't have teeth. Except Piranha. Pike. A few others. Fish small enough to catch, and have bit your finger, and not take it clean off that is."

She grimaced. "Thanks for the info."

Hodgins stopped on the bottom step and switched on the light, a single bulb. "Whoa."

"It's like Frankenstein's lair!" Angela hissed.

"This guy was no Simple Simon!" Hodgins enthused. "This is state of the art pickling equipment!"

"Yay?" Angela smiled doubtfully.

"Yep." Hodgins crossed the floor to the pickling setup. "This is where our Peter Piper pickled his last pepper!"

"And himself."

"No. He didn't pickle himself." Hodgins frowned. "Highly unlikely he was able to seal himself in."

"Of course." She blinked at him. These scientists just didn't get it!

"This is great." Hodgins pulled out a pair of gloves and began moving things, looking for evidence.

"Hodgins?" Booth yelled down the stairs.

"Yeah!" He called back, his gun safely hidden again.

"We're coming down!"

"We found the crime scene." Angela smiled. "We're super sleuths!"

"We found things too." Brennan announced. "A lock of curly hair and a picture, and three blind mice, and.."

Angela shrieked. "Where?"

"Oh, under the bed."

Angela ran over to the nearest chair and leapt up on it.

"They're stuffed Ang." Booth grinned. "But I imagine that's what the farmer's wife's reaction was too."

Brennan stared at her. "Are you afraid of mice Ange?" She smirked.

Angela glared at her, then pointed behind her. "SNAKE!"

Brennan screamed and shot across the room, knocking Angela off the chair and taking her place. "Where? Where?"

Booth cracked up. "Stop it you two, this is serious, we're investigating a death here!"

"Peter Piper was definitely pickled with this set-up." Hodgins announced from the corner, where he had been ignoring them all. "You said you found a picture of Curly-locks?" He held up a single curled hair from the work table.

"Curly-locks?" Booth asked.

"Curly-locks, Curly-locks, wilt thou be mine?

Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine;

But sit on a cushion, and sew a fine seam,

And feed upon strawberries, sugar, and cream." Hodgins recited in a bored tone.

"How Neanderthal." Brennan replied. "Who wants to sit and sew seams all day?"

Angela shrugged from the floor. "Strawberries and cream though, sounds yummy."

Booth opened his mouth and then shut it again, choosing silence as the best answer.

"I thought he was dating Mary Contrary?" Brennan asked.

"I guess there's nothing for it." Booth sighed. "We'll have to go ask the old woman."

"Which one?" Angela smiled. "The one in the shoe?"

"Or the one in the basket?" Hodgins added.

Brennan frowned. "Whatever is she doing in a basket?"

"Sweeping the cobwebs from the sky." Hodgins smirked.

Brennan looked offended. "That's ridiculous, there are no cobwebs in the sky."

"Yes." Booth nodded. "But if you meet her, don't tell her. It's not nice to disabuse the elderly of their notions."

"Is that why you let that old lady down the hall from you call you Sonny and pinch your cheek?" Brennan quizzed.

"Yes, Bones. That and she makes her pastry from scratch, and invites me over for leftover pie after her son goes back to Indiana. He visits once a month, for work, she likes to make him pie." He said defensively.

"Really?" Angela sighed. "Pastry from scratch? Could you invite me next time?" She rubbed her stomach hungrily.

"Which old Lady do we need to talk to?" Brennan returned to Booth's earlier statement. "Will she have something for us to eat? It IS dinner time."

Booth shook his head. "You can't just invite yourself to someones supper Bones, and besides, this one lives on victuals and drink, I doubt she'll have much."

"Oh." Hodgins nodded wisely. "THAT old lady. Good choice Booth!"

"Why is that a good choice?" Brennan asked.

"Because she never shuts up!" Angela nodded. "She's bound to have something interesting to say."

"I'll stay here and gather particulates and other evidence." Hodgins declared, pulling a plastic bag from his other pocket and putting the curl in it. "I've got my gear in the car."

Angela rolled her eyes. "I practically had to sit on it."

"And, THAT, is why I drive an SUV." Booth smiled.

Angela sighed. "I'm going to go find something to eat, anything but hot boiled beans."

Brennan got down from the chair. "Excellent idea Ange. I'll go with you, I think I saw a corner store on a cross street." She glanced at Booth and Hodgins. "We'll bring you back something. We'll meet back here in three quarters of an hour."

Booth watched the women escape up the stairs. "I guess that just leaves me to visit the old lady then."

Hodgins smirked. "Drunk ladies love you Booth, you shouldn't have too much of a problem getting her to talk."

"I'm more worried about how I'll get her to be quiet." Booth muttered. "Have fun with the particulates Jack."

"Hey!" Hodgins shouted, as Booth went up the stairs. "Don't knock the science man, these little babies are going to tell us exactly what happened!"

"We know what happened, Hodgins, Peter Piper got pickled. We just need to know How, and Why." Booth called back down the stairs.

Hodgins shook his head and got to work.

"Some people just don't know what they're missing."

_There was an old woman tossed in a basket,_

_Seventeen times as high as the moon;_

_But where she was going no mortal could tell,_

_For under her arm she carried a broom._

_"Old woman, old woman, old woman," said I,_

_"Whither, oh whither, oh whither so high?"_

_"To sweep the cobwebs from the sky; And I'll be with you by-and-by."_

_~MG~  
><em>


	7. Chapter 7

**There was an old woman, and what do you think?**

**She lived upon nothing but victuals and drink;**

**Victuals and drink were the chief of her diet,**

**And yet this old woman could never be quiet.**

"Have a drink Sir! Join me in a drink!"

"I can't I'm on duty Ma'am, now about Peter Piper.."

"Oh, that young pepper picker. You can't drink on duty you say? What a shame. I drink all the time. Now, how about a sherry?"

"Ma'am.."

"No? Not a sherry drinker, I see, how about a whiskey? Put some hair on your chest! I love a hairy chest. Back in my day all the men had hairy chests, and strapping great muscles, and went about their work haying the field with their shirts off. They don't do that now, they have machinery to do it, more's the pity. Now how about that whiskey? Put some hair your chest, it will.."

"That's not true, I've been drinking it for years, and I still don't have much hair on my chest."

"No? Well, if you say so, you say so. You're not one of those one's who shaves it off are you? Waxes? I always think a man should have some hair on his chest. Back in my day.."

"Ma'am, I'm just highly evolved, now, about Piper."

"The Pied Piper? Now there was a man! Lot's of hair on his chest! I was one of those what followed him you know, at least until my pa fetched me back. I tell you, there wasn't nothing finer than watching that Piper play his flute, made you want to dance something firece. Now when I want to dance, I drink a little Rum. Do you like rum? I have dark rum, and light rum, and amber rum, and a coconut rum, and.."

"Peter Piper Ma'am, no, no rum!"

"No rum? Fine I'll drink that then. You must have a drink sir, it's not polite to let a lady drink alone. I'm a lady you know. I used to ride a white horse. With rings on my fingers, and bells on my toes, it was lovely, I had music wherever I went, but then they did away with horses and brought out the cars, and it's so hard to drive with bells on your toes you know. Of course, when you drink enough Vodka, you can do anything, I remember one time.."

"If I have a drink will you tell me about Piper?"

"Why, Yes! Of course! Which Piper?"

"Peter Piper Ma'am."

"Oh, with the pickled peppers. Rather good. I told him he should expand into pickles as well. And maybe a little wine. I have wine, would you prefer wine? White wine? Red wine? Chianti? Chardonnay? I have a lovely blush somewhere, that's when they mix the grapes I think, and an Ice wine, but that's so expensive now days, my sweetheart and I used to drink it on our anniversary, of course he's gone now, he was the butcher. Went to sea with the baker and the candlestick maker, and nobody's seen them since. I expect they're on a island somewhere, drinking rum. Did you want rum?"

"Actually.."

"Beer! Of course, you young red blooded males like to drink beer now don't you? A bit of wussy drink if you ask me, all carbonated like that, I prefer a stout ****ss myself, went to Ireland once, toured the factory, when I die I'm going to haunt it, it smelled so lovely, I've never understood.."

"Do you have Beer?"

"Of course I have beer, didn't I just say so? Piper liked to drink beer. He'd come over once in while, and he'd have a Budweiser and I'd have a whiskey, put's hair on your chest whiskey does!"

"I'll have a beer. When was the last time.."

"The last time I had beer? Why I finished off Piper's after he left last, that was a few months ago I suppose, I'm not sure what day, I never know what day it is, I used to have it all sorted out, Whiskey on Monday, Rum on Tuesday, Vodka on Thursday, Wine on Friday, Sherry on Saturday and Amaretto on Sunday. Sunday is the lord's day you know, and I always figured since Amaretto was so good, he must have created it, and he wouldn't mind if I tippled it during church. The preist minded once, but I gave him a sip and he had to agree. Was an extremely interesting service after that, lots of hellfire and brimstone…"

Booth blinked. "What about Wednesday?"

"What about Wednesday? That Adams girl? They didn't fit in here, last I heard they moved out by the graves. I like to drink cinnamon whiskey when I look at the graves, makes me feel alive!"

"No, the day, Wednesday, what did you drink?"

"Tequila. Doesn't everyone drink Tequila on Wednesday? Livens up that hump day right well, and if you do it right, by the time you sober up it's time for church! I love a good Tequila, I had a amaretto flavoured one once, straight from Mexico it was, absolutely lovely, went down so smooth, I wonder who brought it back? Oh yes, it was Curly-locks. Always after a husband that one, needs to lay off the cream I think, she drinks a gallon a day, and there's never any left in the store, takes it all for herself, good thing there is Carolans, it tastes better than cream anyways, but don't tell her, she'll take all that too, and then what'll I have in my cereal?"

Booth chugged his beer. What was he here about again? Oh, right.. "Piper?"

"The same day as he agued with Miss Contrary of course, a real sour puss that one, though Wee Willy likes her well enough. I can't say how much I like seeing him run in that nightgown, puts on a real show, better than those Chippendale dancers. I saw them last month, they drink some vile thing called orange juice, no alcohol at all! No wonder they have no hair on their chests, need to drink Whiskey for.."

"Curly-locks? Does she live here?" Booth asked, drinking another beer.

"I'm not sure. I think she just comes round to do business with Piper. They're partners. Or at least they were, until Piper got pickled. I say, I get pickled all the time, and it never kills me. What'd he drink?"

She stared at him in silence waiting for an answer.

Booth stared back, collecting his wits, along with all the bits of information she'd divulged.

"I don't actually know what he was pickled with." He finally said. "But it wasn't whiskey, there was no hair on his chest."


	8. Chapter 8

**There came an old woman from France**

**Who taught grown-up children to dance;**

**But they were so stiff,**

**She sent them home in a sniff,**

**This sprightly old woman from France.**

Brennan and Angela walked into the house bearing food, laughing about the old woman they'd seen riding a goose down the road.

"Hodgins?" Angela yelled.

"I'm here." He walked into the living room. "We should eat outside I think."

"Why?" Brennan looked at him funny. "What did you do?"

"Nothing." Hodgins shook his head. "But we contaminate the evidence if we eat inside. We're not the world's neatest eaters you know."

"Good point." Angela replied, shoving Brennan back out the door. "The lawn it is. Like a picnic!"

"I'm a very tidy eater." Brennan muttered, putting her bags down on the lawn. "But yes, we should not risk contamination of the evidence."

"Did you run into Booth?" Hodgins queried.

"No." Brennan looked up from the sandwich she was unwrapping. "But here he comes."

"Where?" Hodgins looked around, patting his pocket, making sure his gun was well hid.

"There." Brennan pointed down the road, to where Booth was hurriedly making his way towards them.

"He looks stressed." Angela giggled. "The old lady was too much for him!"

"I heard that!" Booth called. "And you have NO idea!"

"Enlighten us dude, what did you learn?" Hodgins held out a sandwich, which Booth tore into. "And why do you smell like a brewery?"

"She lives in a Brewery! I've never seen so much booze in my life!" Booth groaned. "Pastrami on rye, my favourite!"

Brennan sniffed him delicately. "Budweiser?"

"I had to Bones, she wouldn't talk unless I drank something!"

"Did you chug it?" Hodgins grinned knowingly.

"Only the first one." Booth muttered, shooting him a glare.

Brennan raised an eyebrow. "Well, what did you learn then?"

Booth stared at her blankly. "About what?"

"Peter Piper."

"He drank bud. Not whiskey, whiskey puts hair on your chest, though not in my case, because I'm highly evolved, and no I don't shave it or wax, it's just the way am I, and yes I've drunk sufficient whiskey in my time to be sure that it won't and.." He drew a breath. "Oh Lord, she's got me doing it now!"

Pop sprayed from Angela's mouth as she collapsed into giggles, "You sound like my aunt Mabel!"

Hodgins wiped pop off his arm and gave Brennan an I-told-you-so glance.

"But.. Did you learn anything besides Piper's choice of drink?"

Booth rubbed his temples. "Curly-locks is his business partner."

"That's it?" Hodgins chuckled. "She got you good!"

Booth just shook his head and began eating his sandwich again. "Never again. Never again." He stared at his feet in silence. "If you're like that when you're old, I'm getting a divorce!" He told Brennan before stalking off into the house.

She stared after him, open mouthed. "But.. We're not married!"

Angela burst into giggles again. "She got him GOOD!"

~B~

"Booth?" Brennan called, standing in the doorway of Piper's house.

"Upstairs." He replied.

She could hear stuff moving around.

She frowned, and climbed the stairs. "Booth, what are you doing? Are you ok? Because if you're drunk you shouldn't be.."

"I'm not drunk." He sighed, opening another closet door, checking inside, and slamming it closed again.

"But outside.."

"Yeah, what about it?" He looked around. "That old woman is nuts, but I kind of liked her. Have you seen any business papers? She said Curly-locks was his business partner, but I can't find a safe or a computer or anything."

Brennan looked around thoughtfully. "When I was younger, there was an old lady from France who lived next door, who taught dancing lessons, and I used to go visit her sometimes…"

"Is this the one who was dead when you when to visit one day?"

"Yes." Brennan narrowed her eyes on the bed. "She used to keep all her important papers and some rainy day money in her mattress."

Booth stopped opening cupboards and turned to stare at her. "You checked the beds."

"But not this one." She walked over and started pressing down on the mattress. Suddenly she smiled. "There's a zipper here." She pulled up the sheets and opened it, and withdrew a large brown envelope. "Bingo Baby!"

Booth smiled. "Did you just call me Baby?"

"No." Brennan frowned. "Isn't that the acceptable exclamation when discov.."

"Yeah,." He took the envelope from her and opened it. "I was just teasing you. Good job Bones, you got one right!"

"I'm always right."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well. Almost."

He reached out a hand and touched her face. "Why do I always get the feeling that you're like the little girl with the curl?"

"What's that mean?"

Booth shook his head, thinking of how she'd told him that her father had said she was just like him. When Brennan was good, she was very, very good… And when she was bad.. Well. If she was like her old man, she'd be very good at that too…

"Booth?"

"Nothing Bones. Just an odd thought." He dismissed it. "These look like business papers of some kind, and there is a key, probably to a safe deposit box somewhere. Let's go show these to Ang and Hodgins, I think we're almost done here. Might be time to go back to the lab."

"Can I drive?"

Booth sighed.

"I DID find the business papers." She pointed out.

And he had had a few beer, he remembered.

"Yeah. Ok." He reached in his pocket for the keys, then gave them to her. "Let's go."

**There was a little girl, who had a little curl,**

**Right in the middle of her forehead.**

**And when she was good, she was very, very good,**

**And when she was bad she was horrid.**


	9. Chapter 9

Brennan marched out the door happily, waving the keys to the SUV from her fingertips. "Time to go." She smiled widely.

"Already?" Angela moaned, "but we haven't seen Wee Willie yet!"

Brennan froze and glanced at her watch. "7:30."

"He won't come till eight." Hodgins shook his head.

"Isn't there anyone we haven't interviewed yet?" Angela asked Booth.

He shook his head. "These papers say Curly-locks lives in Baltimore, and the Fat man from Bombay, he only comes once a month."

"But someone must have seen something!" Angela whined playfully. She really, really wanted to see Wee Willie run down the street in his nightgown.

A teen came down the street crying.

"Hey!" Hodgins called out. "Are you alright?"

The teen came over and shrugged. "Yeah, I deserved it."

"Deserved what?" Booth asked his hackles rising instantly.

"I stole a pig and ate it, and then I got beat."

Hodgins frowned. "Are you Tom, the piper's son?"

The kid looked surprised. "Yeah, I am."

"Aren't you supposed to run down the street?" Hodgins raised his eyebrows.

The teen rolled his eyes. "What am I? 7?"

Booth glared at Hodgins. "Your dad beat you?" He asked the kid, who looked at him astonished.

"Hell no. Twas my sister! We play rummy every night and I was so full I darn near fell asleep and she beat the pants off me!"

Brennan looked at his pants, which were so baggy they were practically falling off. "I don't imagine that would be difficult." She declared.

He scowled at her. "Sez you."

"Hey, Did you happen to notice anyone hanging around this house a while back? Round when Peter Piper went missing?"

"Just ****-Robin and Sparrow." The kid shrugged.

"Where are they now?" Booth asked slowly.

"****-Robin is dead."

"Who killed him."

"The sparrow." The teen looked at him sourly. "With a bow and arrow."

"How medieval." Angela said.

The teen shrugged and hitched his pants up. "You guys looking for whoever pickled Piper?"

Booth rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Know anything?"

The teen stared at the house behind them. "It doesn't stink."

"It wouldn't." Brennan said, "He was pickled."

"In a vat?"

"Yes."

"Then where did all the peppers go? They wouldn't have fit in there with him."

"Some did." Booth replied, thinking of the crime scene photos.

The teen shrugged. "Just sayin. Gotta go, bye." He turned and continued his walk down the street.

"Kids these days are so LAZY." Hodgins muttered.

"He has a point though." Angela mused. "I didn't see any extra peppers did you?"

Hodgins frowned. "I'm going to have to run some tests."

All of a sudden doors started opening and woman came out and started sweeping the front step, or reading the paper, or drinking tea and chatting with the neighbours.

"What's going on?" Booth hissed.

"It's almost eight o'clock." Brennan smiled.

A few minutes later a giant of a man came jogging down the street in a half undone night gown.

"THAT's Wee Willie?" Hodgins gaped.

"Oh, YUM." Angela sighed, watching him run past, the shirt flaps rising and falling as he moved.

"I should arrest him for public exposure." Booth muttered.

"You can't." Brennan declared. "He's got underwear on."

"Are you sure?" Booth asked, "Because I definitely saw more than I wanted to."

She nodded. "I distinctly saw a leopard print thong."

"Men." Hodgins announced, "Should not wear thongs."

**Tom, Tom, the piper's son,**

**Stole a pig, and away he run,**

**The pig was eat,**

**And Tom was beat,**

**And Tom ran crying down the street.**

_Who killed ****-Robin?_

_"I" Said the Sparrow,_

_"With my little bow and arrow,_

_I killed ****-Robin."_

_(And many more verses, google The Death and Life of Poor ****-Robin if you want to read the whole thing)_

"Nope." Brennan swatted his hand away.

"But Bones!"

"Nope, I'M driving, I get to choose the station now." She smirked.

Booth leaned back in his seat and sulked. "But you don't even have it on!"

"I know." Brennan looked behind her and switched lanes. "I want to talk."

"Ok?" Booth asked.

"What did you mean you'll divorce me if I'm like that old lady when I'm old?" Brennan asked suddenly.

Booth's eyes widened. "Who said that?"

"You did."

"I didn't."

"Yes you did, Angela, Hodgins, and I, all heard you."

"Oh. I don't know."

"You must know, you said it, and you never say anything you don't mean, right?"

Booth rubbed his hand over his face. "I don't want to talk about right now."

"Ok, when." Brennan persisted.

"When pig's fly." Booth muttered.

Brennan frowned, and fell silent for a few miles.

Then she smiled, and pointed out the window. "Look Booth!"

"What?"

"There is a man in brown suit flying a pig!"

Booth leaned forward and stared. "That's not a real pig!"

"Yes it is, look, it's strapped to that large kite! I'm going to phone animal services, he shouldn't be terrifying that pig like that!"

"I think he's trying to get it down Bones… It must have got tangled in the kite ropes. Look, he's got it down now."

They drove past the man, who was now hugging his little pig and looking like he might have a stroke.

"Hmm." Brennan mused. "He does look appropriately shocked, doesn't he?" She spun her head around to stare at him.

"Now, TALK!"

Booth winced. He should have known better, today was just one of _those_ days. "I was confused Bones, that old lady had me going round in circles."

"Literrally or figuratively?"

"What do YOU think?"

Brennan considered.

"Oh for crying out loud!" Booth exclaimed. "Not _literally _Bones!"

"But we're not married! We're just partners! Right?" She glanced at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh please, we're more married than half the people I know who actually ARE married."

"But we don't have sex or physical intimacy."

Booth chuckled. "Neither do they."

Brennan looked horrified. "Then what on earth made them get married?"

"Hope. Love. Happiness." Booth ticked off his fingers. "And they were having sex then."

"What about the other half?"

"Other half of what?"

"You said we're more married than HALF."

"Oh."

"Well?"

"They have sex, and intimacy, and vacations for two, and are blissfully happy 5 days out of the week." Booth smiled.

"Why only five days?"

"Because everyone argues, Bones."

"We don't."

"We bicker."

"That's different."

"Well, maybe we should get married then." Booth said.

"Maybe we should." Brennan shot back.

"We'd have to have sex." Booth said, "I'm not marrying someone if we're not having sex."

Brennan shrugged. "I'm not marrying someone who leaves the cap off the toothpaste."

"I don't."

Silence fell over the car as they caught up to their own conversation.

"I thought you don't believe in marriage."

"I said that it's an antiquated ritual, not that I didn't believe in it."

"There's a difference?"

"Obviously.. I thought you would only marry for love."

"I wouldn't marry for anything less."

Brennan opened her mouth and then shut it again.

"What?" Booth asked warily.

Brennan looked at him from the corner of her eyes.

"WHAT?" He repeated.

She shrugged and looked forward again.

"BONES.." He sounded cranky.

"If you loved me enough to marry me, you'd tell me, right?" She finally asked.

Booth sunk lower into his seat. "Maybe. Eventually. If I thought you might love me back and wouldn't kick my ass." He muttered.

Brennan nodded. "And if I did.. We'd have sex, right?"

Booth looked at her incredulously. "What do you think I am? Stupid? Of COURSE we'd have sex."

Brennan smiled. "Good to know."

"Peachy."

"Where?"

"What?"

"There's fresh fruit somewhere?"

"No, why would you think that?"

"Well, you said.."

"I didn't mean.."

"Well, why would you talk about fruit then?"

"Bones, you're so.."

An hour later they pulled into the lab parking garage and got out, still bickering.

"I don't understand the use of fruit in polite conversation."

"I wasn't being polite!"

"OOOHHH…" Brennan looked startled. "Well, THAT makes sense then."

Dickory, dickory, dare,

The pig flew up in the air;

The man in brown soon brought

Him down,

Dickory,

Dickory,

Dare.

Booth stalked into Brennan's office and threw himself down on the couch beside Hodgins.

"Well, that was a bust."

"Interviewing Curly-locks?"

"Yep." Booth tapped his fingers on the coffee table irritatingly. "She was there the day before. Was in New York the night he went with the Gin guy and came home drunk. Has witnesses to her alibi as well."

Angela shook her head. "So we're back to nothing. Did you check up on Sparrow?"

"Yep." Booth sighed deeper. "By the time the sparrow shot ****-robin, Piper had already been gone two days."

"Who reported him missing." Brennan looked up from her computer.

"Mary Contrary."

"Well maybe she did it."

Hodgins blinked. "Does she have curly hair?"

"Yeah, sorta." Booth looked at him.

Hodgins nodded. "Could be! That hair I found, definitely female, and it had pickling fluid on it, definitely from the time of the crime." He grinned. "I rhymed!"

Booth sighed. "That's not a proper rhyme Hodgins, Flour of England, fruit of spain, Met together in a shower of rain; Put in a bag tied round with a string; If you'll tell me this riddle, I'll give you a ring." He quoted. "That's a proper nursery rhyme."

Brennan looked up again. "It's a plum pudding. That was easy." She held out her hand.

"What?" Booth squinted at her.

"The ring."

"There is no ring, it's part of the rhyme."

"Well, that's misleading."

"You really don't know any nursery rhymes?" Angela shook her head at Brennan.

Brennan thought about it. "I do actually.. Over the hill came piss-pot Pete…"

Booth jumped up and ran around the desk, shoved his hand over Brennan's mouth. "THAT is NOT a nursery Rhyme, Bones! Where the hell did you hear that!"

"Parker's friend Marcus." She said against his hand.

Booth's eyes rounded in horror, and Hodgins doubled over laughing.

Angela just smiled. "Is that the one…" She mused thoughtfully, standing up and moving to the door. "I'm going to have to google that. Let me know if Mary Contrary caves in the interrogation room." She waved, then left.

Hodgins stood up and followed her out, still laughing. "See ya later guys."

Brennan reached up and pulled Booth's hand off her mouth. "I still think you owe me a ring."

"You could buy a bigger rock than I could." Booth muttered, focused on trying to figure out when Marcus had managed to get Brennan alone, and whether Parker had been present.

"I have a theory about that.." Brennan began.

"Yeah? What's that? No. Don't tell me, I don't really want to know." Booth shook his head. "If I get you a ring, will you wear it?"

Brennan frowned up at him. "Of course." She held her hand out in front of her and stared at it. "Nobody's ever got me one before."

Booth rolled his eyes. "Right. Well, I'll go get Mary Contrary hauled in, and grill her, and if she confesses before midnight tonight, I'll buy you a damn ring, ok?"

Brennan looked satisfied. "Ok. Oh, and Booth?" She asked as he turned to leave. "I wouldn't kick your ass."

Booth stood at the door, his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to answer. It was late. Maybe she was asleep.

He'd barely completed that thought when Brennan opened the door, and the scent of her perfume surrounded him.

"Evening Bones." He smiled at her.

She glanced at her clock. "It's actually Sunday morning now." She smiled and held the door open. "Come in.'

"Are you sure?" He paused in the door.

"Of course, I wasn't sleeping."

He nodded and walked in, pacing around the living room.

"Did you get her to confess finally?" She finally asked.

"Yeah, took all day." He muttered. "We ended up having to bring in the fat man of Bombay."

"Was he fat?"

"No, but he was phat."

Brennan squinted at him.

"It's a saying Bones.. Like, 'Cool'. Sorta." Booth made a restless motion with his hands.

"But she did it?"

"Yeah, he was in the cab that dropped Piper off, and he saw her sneak over to his place. Thought they were going to make up or something." Booth made another motion with his hands.

"Whats that?"

"You know!"

"No. I don't."

Booth sighed. "Make-up sex, Bones."

She raised her eyebrows. "Okay."

"And she killed him. Stuffed him the vat and hammered the lid down, then cleaned it all up. The buyers of the vat cam and picked it up. It wasn't supposed to be opened for ten years, some kind of aging experiment."

Brennan nodded. "I've often wondered about that myself. Wine gets better with age.."

"Anyways!" Booth pulled his hand out of his pocket and held it out to her, fist closed.

She crossed to him and bumped his fist with a smile.

His hand opened, and there in his palm was a gold ring, with a trio of diamonds inset in it.

She gasped, and grabbed it, and put it on her hand, then held her hand up. "It's beautiful Booth!"

"Does it fit?"

"Perfectly!" She grabbed him by the collar and kissed him on the mouth. "How long does it take to get married?" She smiled happily.

He stared down at her in shock. "I love you. You want to get married? What?"

She smiled. "Yes, I do. Thank you for asking. I think Brennan-Booth would be acceptable, don't you? I've always wanted to be hyphenated. This ring is perfect Booth, I can even wear it under my gloves, and the rocks won't break the latex." She held her hand up and looked at it again, then back at his face. "And, I love you too by the way."

"How long?" He asked, his brain clicking together events in the past.

"Years. Why?"

He shook his head. "Wow, I wasted a lot of time, didn't I?" He picked her up in a fireman's carry.

"Booth?"

"Can we talk later Bones?"

"Where are you taking me?"

"The church, before you change your mind."

"But it's 12:30 AM!"

"Yeah, the priest owes me a favour."

"BOOTH!"

"What?"

"Take the stairs, the elevator has been having trouble."

**On Saturday night**

**Shall be all my care**

**To powder my locks**

**And curl my hair.**

**On Sunday morning**

**My love will come in,**

**When he will marry me**

**With a gold ring.**

In case anyone was wondering, the rhymes are from: The Real Mother Goose, published by checkerbox press.


End file.
